Eragon: The Movie
by stolensails
Summary: You know how the Eragon movie sucked? Well, this is how the script could have gone. Please review-flames accepted.
1. Which Came First, The Dragon or the Egg?

Hello, gentle readers! Please don't be offended that I'm making fun of the books-it's just too hard to resist laughing at the antics of Eragon. ;) Hope you enjoy, and please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, the Rolling Stones, Fiddler on the Roof, or Tiffany's.

Prologue:

Durza: Urgals! Bring down those elves' noble horses with your deadly arrows!

Urgals: No problemo, big shot.

Durza: HAHAHA! You are helpless, elf. It is funny because I am a sadist.

Arya: Go, egg, go!

Durza: QWAZKSLGHWEIODKKLLJ!

Urgals: Uh-oh.

Arya: Oh, my! I'm simply exhausted. *collapses on the ground*

Durza: Let us proceed to the castle of darkness. BUT I'M STILL ANGRY!

Urgals: Sounds coolio, boss.

Chapters 1-3

Eragon: Oh, woe is me. I have shot no deer in the last three days.

A mystical flash of blue light occurs

Eragon: Oooh, so pretty! Hey, I bet I could get money for this.

Tiffany's Representative: You have excellent instincts, young one. Were you not fictional, we would pay you much money for this mysterious stone.

Eragon: Hey, Sloan! Look at this awesome rock!

Sloan: Okay. Three crowns' worth of meat?

Eragon: No way!

Sloan: Look, I'm really, really cheap and I don't like you. What do you expect?

Tevye: Once a butcher, always a butcher…

Everyone stops and realizes that Carvahall bears an eerie resemblance to Anatevka

Eragon: Oh, fine. Haggling is beyond my mental capacity, so.

Sloan: So where did it come from?

Eragon: Oh, the Spine.

Sloan begins foaming at the mouth and waving butcher knives around

Eragon: Eep.

Horst and Katrina: Silly Sloan, knives are for serial killers!

Garrow: Hey, Eragon, how's it hanging?

Eragon: Look, meat!

Garrow: Awesome! Hey, where did you get it?

Eragon: Oh, Horst bought it.

Garrow begins foaming at the mouth and shouting.

Eragon: I really need to stop telling people where things come from.

Christopher Paolini: I have the Dragon Tales theme song stuck in my head, so I'll name this chapter after it.

Carvahall villagers: …What the hell?

Roran: Oh, Katrina, I pine for you…

Katrina flips her hair and looks teasingly at him.

Roran: Redheads are vixens.

Brom: I shall tell you a story of great sorrow now. Once upon a time, there were awesome dragons and slightly less awesome riders thereof. Then there came a substandard slightly-less-awesome rider who, when he lost his dragon *pauses to gaze into the distance sadly* went completely crazy, found the dangerous combination of a baby dragon and his theme song, Paint it Black, and decided to kill all the riders. Eventually, said substandard rider fought the leader and defeated him by kicking him in the balls. Henceforward he was king, and outlawed cool stories and made y'all peasants. Fear him.

Eragon: Wow, that was a story of great sorrow.

The Rolling Stones: And we thought we'd achieved something when they put us on Guitar Hero.


	2. Just Don't Call Me Ishmael

Chapters 4-8

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, nor do I own the Lolcatz (no one owns the Lolcatz), nor do I own Up, nor do I own Twilight. I also don't own Lord of the Rings or Star Wars, but neither does Christopher Paolini.

Eragon: Hmmm. What happens if I pound on this weird rock with a hammer?

Eragon pounds on the egg with a hammer. Nothing happens.

Eragon: Oh. Nothing. Huh.

Saphira: SQUEAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!

Eragon: What was that? Better get out my trusty old hunting knife!

Saphira: SQUEAAAAAAAAAAAAK!

Eragon: You suck, mysterious stone. I don't feel the need to wonder why a frickin' rock would be squeaking at all. In this way, I am unlike the authoress of this fic. And pretty much the rest of the world. I have a brilliant idea. I'll bury it somewhere!

Saphira: SQUEAAAAAAAAAAAAK!

Eragon: The rock is breaking…OMFG, it's a dragon! …..aw, hey, there!

Proceeds to baby-talk to Saphira and then pet her head.

Eragon: AAAAHH! Mind-numbing pain! Whoa, now I have a gigantic shiny scar. I can use it as a pocket-mirror!

Eragon proceeds to examine himself in pocket-mirror scar

Saphira: Me want food.

Lolcatz: You stealed our linez!

Spellcheck: Just because you're small cute creatures does NOT mean you can get away with that!

Eragon: I am keeping this dragon, foo. Even though it's totally impractical, 'cause that's how I roll. Here, dragon, I have found you a tree in which to live. Good night!

Saphira: But—wait—hey—damn, I wish I could talk.

SPCA: Did you really just do that?

Eragon: Oh, thank a bunch of random gods, you're still alive. *He notices the various claw marks all over the trees* Hiding this dragon is not going very well. Clearly, I need to talk to Brom, not least because I apparently can't name a dragon on my own.

Saphira: This is very true. Thank you for not trying.

Eragon: Bye-bye!

Saphira: Now I'm going to repeat your name a bunch of times, really creepily, in a tone of doom.

Brom: Oh, shit, not you.

Eragon: *in a tone of oblivious cheer* Hi there! I'm going to ask you some unsubtle questions about dragons now.

Brom: They're really old. So are the elves.

Eragon: How old? What are they like? Where do they come from? Do you think Dug the Talking Dog is based on me?

Brom: SHUT UP! So they come from a place called Alalea—

Everyone who has relatives from the southern USA: Hey, I have a great-aunt named Eulalia, which sounds weirdly similar!

Christopher Paolini: *sheepishly* Uh…yeah, so do I. That's sort of where I got the name.

Brom: No one knows anything about it, except that it sounds like Eulalia, my great-aunt's name. So, anyway, dragons and elves were of equal awesomeness as well as racist-ness, and they attacked each other a lot. Then an awesome dude named Eragon—

Eragon: Say WHAAAT?

Brom: Ah, yes, he was the first Rider. It is a badass name, Eragon. Bear it well.

Eragon: That is _so_ _cool!_

Brom: Beware, Eragon, for when you get excited your voice rises in pitch and uncannily resembles that of a California valley girl.

Eragon: Oh, God.

Brom: So they also lived for hundreds of years.

Eragon: No way. That's impossible!

Brom: Ah, but not for a Tolkien rip-off, my young apprentice.

Eragon: Aaand…can you tell me some dragon names that kick ass?

Brom: But of course! Aaso'alskdhip, Ipiodkspikcchh, Roslarb, Tyeopskn, Gretiem…and…*sob* Saphira.

Eragon: I'm going to ignore that foreshadowing completely. Those were beautifully unpronounceable names! I love them! Okay, now that I've gotten what I want, I'm leaving.

Brom: Oh, yippee. I get to sit alone some more.

Ghost of Selena: *in a haunting voice like a will o' the wisp, almost indistinguishable from the wind* Youuuu…muuuussstttt…getttttt…laaaaiiiiid…

Brom: Oh, Selena…That will never happen, both because in Alagaësia we have an inordinate and alarmingly long-lasting attachment to our first loves—that's you!—and because I'm very, very old and it would be creepy.

Edward Cullen: Don't even worry about that.

Roran: So guess what? I get to work as an apprentice with—drumroll please—the miller!

Eragon: That is massively unthrilling. People lose their hands and fingers in that job.

Roran: You are _such _a killjoy. Okay, how about this—I'm going to marry Katrina!

Eragon: Marry her? What's wrong with a nice one-night stand?

Roran: You are SO unsupportive.

Eragon: ….I feel abandoned.

Saphira: Deal with it, bitch.

Eragon: Hey, you can talk!

Saphira: Yep.

Eragon: Do you want a name? How about Roslarb?

Saphira: *snort* That is the single most bizarre name I have ever heard.

Eragon lists off a series of weird names

Saphira: *snort*

Eragon lists off more names obliviously

Saphira: *snort*

Eragon: Heyyyy…you're a girl!

Saphira: No duh.

Eragon: Hmmmm…how about…Saphira?

Saphira: Hells yeah!


	3. All that's Not So Known

Chapters 9-10

Hello, people of the world! Thanks SO much to Amairys, Ministryofchaos, XxWeixxX, and Eatfoodzap for the reviews-seriously, they made my day.

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, ABBA, Grease, or Aerosmith. I don't think this is a surprise to anyone.

Eragon and Roran look awkward. Garrow is blissfully oblivious.

Roran: So, um, how about that…uh…miller job? I was thinking about, uh….

Eragon and Roran look apprehensively at Garrow.

Garrow: Why, that's a fine idea!

Roran: What?

Garrow: YESSSS! You're leaving! This is SO awesome!

Eragon: This is madness!

Garrow: Deal with it, bitch.

Eragon: Saphira, I don't understand! Roran and I are uncomfortable around each other! How could such a thing happen? We don't know what to say or anything!

Saphira: …Yeah…you know, that might just be because you're both teenage guys and therefore communicate largely in grunts.

Eragon: Oh, Saphira, you're so helpful.

Saphira: Oh, look, I caught an eagle! Whoops, changed my mind. He, like me, is a noble hunter.

Eagle: Goddammit, why didn't you figure that out before?

Eragon: Wow, that was SOOO noble! Hey, by the way, I was going to show you to my family, but I've changed my mind. I'm sulking, and I don't think they're cool enough to see you.

Saphira: Don't. Really, don't. It would be bad.

Garrow: Here, money! Goodbye, Roran, go away now.

Roran: Money, money…it's a rich man's world!

Eragon: Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doodoodoodoo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo…

Random chorus: Money, money…must be funny…in a rich man's world!

Garrow: Okay, musical aside over, I will now impart useful life advice that neither of you ever follow, nor think about again.

Eragon and Roran are still humming and therefore don't hear the useful life advice.

Garrow: Okay, bye, now!

Roran: I'll come back soon, I promise.

Garrow: …Great…just go, really.

Dempton: Oh, hey, Roran! There's going to be a lot of work…grinding.

Roran: Tell me about it…_stud_.

Roran and Dempton raise their eyebrows a lot.

Dempton: Ooh, _Eragon!_ Hey, maybe you can have a job here too when you're a little older.

Dempton raises his eyebrows some more.

Eragon: (weakly) I thought you were marrying Katrina…

Roran: Oh, you know, just some _experimentation _before I tie myself down.

Eragon: So, Horst…what did you think of Dempton?

Horst: Such a stud—I mean, good man. SO, back to the plot! There are some random strangers in town. They're really pretty creepy. You know what they said when I met them?

Ra'zac: WE WILL EAT THE STILL-LIVING FLESH FROM YOUR BONES, VERMIN!

Horst: Okay, so that answers that…

Sloan: Don't do that. I'll tell you. Eragon has the stone. He found it in the unholy mountain range.

Ra'zac: You mean the Sp—

Sloan: DON'T SAY THE NAME!

Ra'zac: Wow, even we think you're sort of spastic.

Brom arrives, and Dempton turns and winks at him.

Brom: Eragon! …ohhh, Dempton…

Ghost of Selena: *in the same haunting voice* IIIII…aaaaammm…glaaaaad…youuuuuuuu…fooooolllllooooowwwweeeeeed…myyyyyyy…aaaaaaaaaadviiiiiiiiice…

Brom: Ahem. So, anyway, I'm going to grab your hand now.

Eragon: Is nothing sacred?

Brom: Oh, pocket mirror scar! …I am deeply unattractive today. Thanks!

Eragon: What the hell is going on?

Brom: Every tiiiime that I look in the mirror…all these liiiines on my face gettin' clearer…the past is gooOOOONE; it went by-y li-i-ike dusk to da-aw-awn…

Plot: And so it was that there was more foreshadowing.


End file.
